


I'll Be Watching You

by taxingtaurus



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Stalking, because the things with Malcom haven't happened yet, like I felt weird writing this because it's creepy, slight AU, super creepy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6339058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingtaurus/pseuds/taxingtaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After impressing her investors at Palmer Tech, Felicity receives messages from a secret admirer who will stop at nothing to get what he wants: her.</p><p>Canon divergence after 4x12.</p><p>ON TEMPORARY HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing something a little darker than my "Thicker than Water" AU, and I found the inspiration for this story after reading a set of case studies on stalkers for my abnormal psych class. I figured that as long as I have to learn about creepy people all day, I might as well have fun with it. 
> 
> Title taken from The Police's "Every Breath You Take". 
> 
> Unfortunately, I do not own Arrow, but this work is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

The first time he sees his beautiful Angel, she's wheeling herself around a crowded room and demanding her audience's attention. He's completely transfixed.

He had read articles and tabloids discussing the tragic injury of Palmer Tech's CEO, and many media personalities had even gone as far as describing Felicity Smoak as being "cut down in her prime" after the shooting that had left her paralyzed. But watching her now, he can't imagine this confident, intelligent woman as anything less than extraordinary.

She's in a wheelchair, but her movement doesn't appear hindered in any way. She's as graceful maneuvering around the conference room as a ballerina crossing her stage, and he literally cannot tear his eyes away from the small, blonde CEO.

She removes a sheet from her sponsored product, explaining that Palmer Tech's new battery is powering the entire building, but he doesn't care about the product. He only cares about her.

He knows this event was hosted in hopes that investors would take interest in the company's - _her_ \- products and future endeavors, and after discovering how much he loves the young businesswoman, he knows that he'll give Palmer Tech the entirety of his life savings to see her smile for even a moment longer.

He entertains the thought of his Felicity laughing and smiling at him for only a moment, but his wonderful daydream is quickly replaced with the reality. As the audience applauds her for her efforts, her face splits into a grin that adds sparkle to her eyes, and she looks at him. It's only for a moment, but it's enough to leave his heart stuttering in his chest.

She's remarkable. Smart, beautiful, radiating sunshine in the midst of the struggles she must face on a daily basis with her injury. She's able to stop his heart with merely a glance, and her voice loops through his mind and fills the gap that's left him aching for as long as he can remember.

He can't help but tilt his body toward the man next to him, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the angelic creature in front of him as he verbalizes his amazement.

"She's something else, isn't she?"

"You have no idea," the man replies.

But he does. He absolutely does.

His Felicity. His Angel. She's incredible.

As the crowd begins to dissipate, he takes time to drink in her appearance, her voice as she greets potential investors, her mannerisms and her strength.

The moment is ruined when Oliver Queen steps in beside her, lowering himself to the balls of his feet as he congratulates her and kisses her softly.

She looks so happy, his Angel, but he knows that she shouldn't. Oliver is the reason she is in her wheelchair; why she's limited. Oliver had tricked her into loving him, and now she is blinded to the fact that he will only cause her more pain and heartache.

Oliver will, but _he_ won't.

Never.

Standing in the middle of the largest Palmer Tech conference room, watching his beloved kiss another man, he makes a vow to love and protect Felicity Smoak in a way that Oliver Queen never can.

Tomorrow, Felicity will know that Oliver Queen is not the only man who loves her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity goes to the office only to discover that she has a secret admirer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really nervous about posting this fic, but my friend convinced me to do it. So thanks for the support and confidence booster, Abby! You rock!
> 
> I am absolutely terrible at writing fluff. So I'm sorry. But I promise more well-written angst later?

Felicity is already groaning when her alarm drags her kicking and screaming into consciousness.

She’s vaguely aware of a light shuffling sound down the hallway, but desperately tries to ignore it. If she acknowledges the movement, it’ll mean that she’s truly awake. At 3:30 in the morning. Which just feels…wrong.

Unfortunately, she can only feign sleep for so long before she’s found out.

"There's my girl," an annoyingly chipper voice calls from her right. "Good morning."

_God_ , if her eyes weren't practically welded shut from exhaustion, she would be rolling them right now.

"It's still dark outside, Oliver. This hardly constitutes morning."

"Thought you might say that," he responds, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "So I brought coffee. Three Splenda, two creamers."

He places a steaming mug in her hand, trailing kisses from her cheek to her forehead in an effort to wake her more fully. He pulls back to run his fingers through her hair, rubbing his thumb gently along her hairline, and smiles when she unconsciously leans into his touch.

"Still doesn't change the fact that it's way too early," she moans.

"You have a conference call this morning. You'll be upset if you miss it."

"Right... The teleconference with Mr. Fan in Beijing."

She sighs deeply before blinking open her tired eyes, looking at Oliver for the first time.

"You know, I think we should eliminate time zones. It can be the same time everywhere. Some nations can just learn to be nocturnal. No early mornings ever again, problem solved."

Oliver laughs and shakes his head before kissing her, and she's so distracted by the kiss that she forgets to tell him that she's being completely serious.

Felicity can't honestly say that she regrets being incredibly talented at her job, but she will fully admit that early mornings are her Kryptonite. Literally the bane of her existence. But when a potential investor in China schedules an impromptu teleconference, CEOs flirting with bankruptcy have no choice but to willingly embrace the insanity of waking before dawn.

Luckily for her, her vigilante has made a habit of waking at ungodly hours for years.

"Do I have to?" she whines. "I can't imagine that mixing early morning meetings and lack of sleep leads to anything good."

"You'll do great," Oliver assures her, but Felicity isn't completely convinced.

What if she doesn't know enough about the products to convince him to invest? What if her involvement leads Mr. Fan to withdraw his support of Palmer Tech? _Oh, god._ What if she starts rambling and she has to listen to a translator relay her incoherent babbles over a video chat?

"You're doing that crinkly thing with your eyebrows again," Oliver chuckles, pulling her out of her reverie.

"It’s just...a teleconference at five a.m.? I can hardly be held responsible for the things by body chooses to do this early in the morning." Felicity's eyes widen as her gaze shifts from Oliver's to the comforter and back. "Not - not what my body chooses to do, I mean, what it chooses to say. Not that it doesn't do weird things in the morning because I'm pretty sure we both remember the time we were in Thailand and-"

"Felicity," Oliver cuts her off with a grin. "You're overthinking this. Your presentation last night led to twelve new investors, several who came to congratulate you on your position within the company and said that they couldn't wait to see what you would do next. Just...do what you do best."

"Make situations unnecessarily awkward?" she teases.

Oliver shakes his head again, releasing the lighthearted laugh she knows only makes an appearance when they're alone together.

"No, talk about technology. Show him schematics, let him know how amazing the products really are; what they can do. You'll have a thirteenth investor in no time."

As she sits up to drink her coffee, she can't help but smile at the unwavering faith that Oliver has in her. He has never underestimated her or believed her to be weak, even after her spinal cord injury. He truly believes that she can do this, and it gives her the resolve to start preparing for her conference call.

"Get dressed, finish your coffee, and when you're ready, I have blueberry pancakes waiting for you downstairs," he tells her, turning away from her long enough slip a sweatshirt over his bare skin.

Felicity perks up instantly at the mention of Oliver's blueberry pancakes, shrugging off the last of her fatigue as she downs the rest of her coffee and leans forward to relieve the tension in her muscles. After she feels the satisfying pops travel down the length of her spine, she asks Oliver to grab her blue dress and red heels from the closet. She places her coffee mug on the nightstand and sweeps her blonde hair up into a respectable ponytail.

Oliver drapes her dress next to her on the bed and she makes quick work of getting dressed, choosing to ignore the fact that no less than five mugs now occupy her nightstand as she turns to Oliver in silent invitation.

Oliver casts a pointed look at the mugs, likely making a mental note to tidy up as soon as Felicity leaves, and rolls his eyes. He shifts towards her and winds one arm beneath her knees, the other slipping under her shoulders as he lifts her into his arms to carry her down to the first floor of their loft.

The first time Oliver had carefully lifted her still recovering body, he had held her gently as she clung to him tightly, the fear in her voice evident as she begged him to be careful. It used to terrify her to rely so heavily on Oliver. Now, she trusts him implicitly. But having faith in Oliver, knowing that he won't drop her or resent her for her injury, still doesn't mean that she's overjoyed by the fact that she needs help to go down the stairs.

She bites back the disappointment that fills her heart at the reminder and weaves her arms around his neck. She places a soft kiss to his cheek, hoping it conveys her gratitude for his patience with her, and smiles when the scent of blueberry pancakes wafts toward her nose.

_Okay_ , she concedes, _maybe not every aspect of waking early is awful_.

*****

Felicity's meeting with Mr. Fan lasts an hour longer than she had anticipated, but she does manage to snag her thirteenth investor, as well as a surprising fourteenth and fifteenth that Mr. Fan had invited to attend their teleconference. When she finally retires to her office, she is beyond exhausted, but the pleasant feeling of accomplishment hasn't left her side. The conference call with Beijing and the investors meeting the night before have left Felicity feeling more confident in her position as CEO than she has since her injury had left her wheelchair-bound.

She really is very good at her job.

She holds tight to the warmth spreading through her chest at the reminder and crosses the room to snatch the planner from her desk. She had made a valiant effort to remember her agenda without the added help, but deems it necessary to consult her schedule, just in case.

_Better safe than sorry_ , she thinks, remembering the missed meeting that led her to work through lunch the day before. An event that, much to her embarrassment, happens more frequently than she'd like to admit.

She carefully wheels her way to the edge of her desk and sighs. She really does need to start organizing her work space. Organized chaos was her preferred method in IT, where she was constantly given twice as many projects as her coworkers, but she has to admit that it's less than functional for her role as CEO. She pushes aside several stack of papers, knowing her planner has to be under there somewhere... when she's distracted by a flash of yellow out of the corner of her eye.

Perched on the corner of her desk is a bouquet of sunflowers. The bright color gleams under the florescent lights, and she smiles as she runs a finger softly over the yellow petals. They're plainly wrapped, sunny flowers peeking out from brown paper wrapping with a soft pink ribbon tied in a pristine bow. They're beautiful.

She searches the piles of paperwork for a note and grins when she spots a folded piece of paper in the same soft pink color as the ribbon. She slowly unfurls the paper, expecting to see Oliver's familiar scrawl, but the handwriting is unfamiliar. She decides the florist must have written it.

 

_My Angel,_

_I love you more today than yesterday. I'll love you more tomorrow than today._

_\- Your Love_

 

The pet name is new, she discovers. Oliver tends to call her 'honey' or 'baby' in front of others, saving the more intimate moments to say her name reverently, dragging each syllable out like a prayer. She remembers the last time Oliver said her name that way; the way it carried across the sheets as he whispered that he loved her...

And she has to take a centering breath, pursing her lips as her eyes widen and flit to the ceiling. She counts backwards from three two times, trying to remember why those thoughts are not appropriate for the work place, before she remembers her task.

Felicity traces the edges of the pink paper as she resumes the search for her planner. Maybe, if she's lucky, she won't have another meeting until after lunch, which means she'll have time to call Oliver and...

No such luck. She has another meeting in fifteen minutes, much to her chagrin.

She sighs and starts pushing herself toward the elevators, a small smile written on her face that lasts the entire meeting.

*****

"Oliver?" Felicity answers her cell phone on the third ring, immediately turning it to speaker and placing it on her desk.

"Hey, hon, just called to check in. Did Mr. Fan end up investing?"

"He did, in fact," she announces proudly. "And so did two of his business partners, so I am officially up to fifteen investors in two days. Take that, board of directors."

"You're remarkable, Felicity," he answers. She can hear the pride and love shining through, and it makes her heart swoop in her chest. She's not sure she'll ever get used to that.

"Thank you for remarking on it," she chuckles back. "And thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful. Wouldn't have pegged you for the kind of guy that sends things wrapped in pink, though. I thought that since green was kind of your signature color-"

"You got flowers?" Oliver's surprised tone cuts in over the line.

"Yeah, didn't...they're not from you?"

"No." The word comes out briskly, but Felicity can sense the suspicion in his tone.

"Huh... Maybe I have a secret admirer, then. That would be a new one. I mean, apart from the lacrosse player in college, but he didn't really bring me gifts or anything, mainly just followed me around, but..." She trails off, stopping her own ramble when she notices that Oliver hasn't. "Oliver?"

When he doesn't respond right away, Felicity starts to feel anxious and immediately tries to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"They might not even be for me, maybe they're for my assistant-"

"Where did you find them?" he asks, and she can hear the tension in his voice as he carefully tries to hide whatever he's feeling.

"Um...on my desk."

There's another pregnant pause before Oliver responds, "They're for you."

"Tell me what you're thinking. And don't say-"

"Nothing," he interrupts.

"Don't say nothing," she begs. "Tell me what's wrong."

Felicity hears his sigh carry over the airwaves. She can imagine the way his head hangs and his hand finds the bridge of his nose as he chooses his next words carefully.

"I don't like it," he admits quietly.

She bristles at first, before a small smile finds its way to her lips when the realization hits her.

"Oliver Queen...are you jealous?"

"No, of course not," is his immediate reply, but after yet another brief pause, he adds, "Maybe. I don't know. I'm just not crazy about the idea of someone else leaving my fiancé flowers."

"It seems pretty harmless, Oliver. Just some sunflowers and a note from an employee with a crush. Eventually they'll understand that I won't reciprocate, and that'll be the end."

"There was a note?"

"Yeah. Just some little saying they probably found on the internet."

"Huh."

"You'd think everyone here would know that I was engaged. You know, with the giant ring and everything. You'd think _that_ would be enough visual evidence that I'm not available."

"Maybe I should start making appearances at Palmer Tech," he offers, his tone lighter and his voice betraying the grin she knows is plastered to his face. "You know, give the poor guy more _visual evidence_ that you're taken."

She finds herself smiling at the innuendo, despite the possessive, caveman tactic he's decided is appropriate in her workplace. He seems so much lighter, much more carefree than the big, bad vigilante who holds entirely too much weight on his shoulders. He's teasing her, so she decides to join in on the playful banter.

"Bring me Big Belly Burger for lunch and you can make as many appearances as you'd like," she giggles. "But make sure-"

"Make sure they don't put too many pickles on your burger, I know."

She smiles. "I love you."

"I love you too. Dinner tonight?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you at home."

She clicks the call off, and allows the happiness she always feels when she speaks with Oliver carry her through the rest of her work day.

*****

He had watched from the safety of a corner office as she scoured her desk and maneuvered around the stacks of paper piled across every inch of her work space. He stared unabashedly, waiting with bated breath and twisting hands for her to look up, for her to see the flowers.

When she caught sight of them and smiled, running her delicate fingers over the yellow petals, his heart nearly stopped. It was a beautiful thing to watch.

His eyes had followed her as she made her way to her next meeting and tracked her movement when she returned, silently making his way closer to her office. He had taken residence in the hallway and kept himself relatively well hidden, when he saw her take her phone from her bag and begin to dial. He waited and hoped to hear the voice of a friend, of the florist he had bought the flowers from, anyone but _him._

He had heard everything from his stance outside her door.

Oliver Queen. She thought the flowers were from the supposedly reformed Playboy, cheater, known idiot _Oliver Queen_.

As if he would take the time to carefully examine each flower in the shop four blocks down, sifting through the variety before settling on sunflowers because he knows how much she adores bright colors. As if he would check each sunflower for imperfections to assure that Felicity would only be given the best. As if he would spend nearly his entire night judiciously wrapping the sunny flowers in brown paper wrapping, finding soft pink ribbon that would complement the yellow color and tying it into the perfect bow, searching four different stores to find paper that matched the silky trimming. As if he would sneak into the building and leave her flowers before her work day started.

No. Only _he_ would spend four hours trying to create the perfect written expression of his affection without telling her everything.

He’ll have time to tell her everything, later.

When she finally realizes that the sun does not rise and set with _fucking_ Oliver Queen, who had clearly not given her the gifts on her desk.

He breathes out a frustrated sigh and counts to ten, ticking out a finger for each number as he struggles for control. He rolls his shoulders twice and hides the anger from his face, plastering the signature businessman smile on his face as he exits the Palmer Tech building.

He supposes he can’t totally fault her for her assumption. Queen _was_ her current entanglement, after all. But it didn’t ease the ache that settled in his chest when he had heard his Angel thank Queen for the flowers he had agonizingly prepared for her.

She was clearly still infatuated with Queen, and the remark she had made about not reciprocating had not gone unnoticed, but he doesn’t worry about his supposed competition.

He’ll just have to try harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked it! Always feel free to leave comments and kudos!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets more than she bargained for, Curtis gets an email, and Oliver worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm about to be going on vacation to see family for the next week, so I figured I should post the next chapter before I head out. Hope you like it!

The next few days pass in a haze of investors’ meetings, progress reports to the board of directors, and several afternoons filled with Curtis’s enthusiastic tone as he explains his latest inventions. She hasn’t even found the time to sit in her office for the entirety of her lunch break, much less to investigate whether or not her admirer has made another appearance. Truthfully, her mind has very little room to consider anything but her rapidly filling work calendar, and the note and flowers from an unknown source goes unremembered.

It isn’t until Felicity steps into her office for her first non-business lunch in five days that she notices the bouquets of sunflowers adorning the majority of her desk.

The bouquets are nearly identical to the one left in her office five days ago, beautifully sunny flowers peeking from brown paper packaging and tied with ribbon in tight bows, but each bouquet is decorated with ribbons of a different color. One shines pale blue under the florescent lights, another orange, another purple, green, red. One bouquet for each day she had spent away from her office.

She slowly wheels her way to the corner of her desk, cautiously searching for the notes she knows will accompany each bundle of flowers and raising them one by one to read the carefully written scrawl. As she had anticipated, each was addressed to “My Angel” and signed “Your Love”, written on cardstock that matched the silky ribbons tying the paper packaging together.

The notes start innocently enough.

_I love watching you work_ , the first reads.

_Do you not know how much I love you?_ the second shows.

But as the days wore on, it was clear that her admirer had begun to be impatient by the lack of response.

_Oliver Queen will never love you the way I do._

_You haven’t even come to see the gifts I’ve left you. If there is more I need to do to prove my affections, darling, I will._

That note had created a knot of unease in her belly. _What more could he do to prove his affections? When would he feel it was necessary to take the next step?_

She pushes her concern aside long enough to read the final note, and instantly wishes that she hadn’t.

_Why do you never call for me? Why is there never an answering note? Don’t you know I’m always there, waiting for you to want me? I’ll hear you if you call._

_I’ll hear you if you call._

Did he mean that literally? Was he that close to her, watching her every move and waiting with bated breath for her to find the flowers and note each day? Had he been hoping that she would call for him for nearly a week now?

She’s not sure she wants to know the answers to those questions.

She feels she may know already.

Felicity rapidly searches the room, eyes scanning for any signs of an intruder, and starts to feel panicked when she can’t find a single trace of something out of the ordinary.

She knows from experience that not finding the threat doesn’t mean that it isn’t there.

She hesitates for no longer than a second before deciding that Oliver’s overprotective instincts – frustrating though they may be – are worth dealing with in exchange for the sense of safety she knows she’ll have with Oliver nearby.

Her cell phone is quickly plucked from her desk, and she dials Oliver’s number, pressing the phone carefully between her ear and shoulder as she wheels her way toward the Palmer Tech lobby.

“Oliver?” she asks after he answers on the third ring. “There’s no way you could come to Palmer Tech right now, is there?”

*****

“I’m coming to work with you from now on,” Oliver states with an air of finality, but she quickly waves the notion away.

“I’m perfectly safe at work, Oliver. There is security at every entrance, and it’s not like I don’t spend nearly every minute meeting with boards full of people completely capable of calling the police. And I think you’re forgetting that you have a campaign to run. That’s a little difficult to do from my office.”

“Then hire someone else.” His tone brooks no argument. It’s clearly a command, and she bristles instantly at his words.

“Excuse me?” she asks, taken aback. “I realize that you think you mean well, but it sounds an awful lot like you’re trying to make my decisions for me.”

"Felicity-"

" _No_ , Oliver. Haven't we talked about this before? The whole, 'You’re not the boss of me and I'm the one who decides if I need anyone's protection' speech? Because I distinctly remember giving you that speech. More than once."

She keeps a watchful eye on her fiancé, eyes slightly narrowed as she sees the emotion play across his features. His eyes flicker from her frustrated gaze to the door and back as his pointer and middle finger rub against his thumb, and she knows that Oliver is conflicted. His anxiety at leaving her unprotected is palpable in the hunch of his shoulders, but his desire to give her what she asks for is written in his furrowed brows. She sees his lips pinch together as his eyes lose focus and recognizes the telltale gestures of plans forming in his mind.

"Hey," she whispers, settling a soothing hand on his arm. "I know you're afraid that something is going to happen to me, and believe me, I appreciate the concern. But I can't just get a big scary bodyguard to follow me around every time someone decides to threaten me."

His face is carefully blank as he stares at her, but she can still feel the tension radiating off of him in waves.

“Diggle could stay with you,” Oliver offers quietly, directing his focus to the grey carpeting.

“John has been trying to find more information on Darhk and Malcom, and that’s still the priority, Oliver.”

“ _You’re_ my priority.” He whispers it so softly that she almost misses it.

The quiet admission gives her pause, and she sets aside her frustrations long enough to consider the situation from Oliver’s point of view. She tries to imagine Oliver sitting at her desk, in a wheelchair, being delivered flowers and notes that become increasingly concerning as the days wear on. She pictures tension creeping into his muscles, seeing him become more aware of his surroundings, not knowing how to help other than to provide a shield of protection from an invisible threat that might someday become dangerous. She imagines Oliver refusing her help, and suddenly her anger melts away as understanding takes its place. If their roles were reversed, Felicity would do the same.

She watches her vigilante breathe in deeply, scrubbing a hand through his cropped hair before he finds the will to look up from the threads in the carpet. When his weary gaze meets her own, she’s nearly heartbroken.

He looks so _tired_. How had she not noticed how exhausted he’d become? Not noticed the lines around his eyes? The added weight to his shoulders?

“I just need you to be safe,” he confesses, and she quickly forms a plan to serve as a compromise.

“What if I stayed with Curtis? He’s an Olympic athlete. Or…qualifying athlete? I know he was supposed to go to the Olympics and had an injury. Are you still technically an athlete if you don’t compete? _Did_ he compete? I’m not sure if I ever actually heard whether or not he made it to the Olympics that year…” she trails off, nearly lost in thought before she remembers why she had mentioned Curtis in the first place. “What I _meant_ was that I could work from a desk in Curtis’s lab, and since I spend a good amount of my office hours down there anyway, it wouldn’t feel like my life was being interrupted. Compromise.”

His fingers stop their imaginary draw of the bowstring at her suggestion and his brows pinch together as he seriously considers her solution. After what feels like an eternity, Oliver’s face softens and he nods thoughtfully.

“Yeah, compromise,” he agrees, albeit a little uneasily.

“Oliver Queen, I do believe you’re getting the hang of this partnership thing.”

*****

Curtis has always served as a comforting presence in her stressful line of work, and Felicity is unsurprised to find that she feels significantly more relaxed listening to him tinker with his designs for new company technology.

“There’s no reason for it to – right, but we’d need to manufacture – but that would be easy enough to-” Curtis rambles quietly while he works, and, for the first time in what feels like days, Felicity’s troubled mind is able to focus solely on the task at hand.

She can already feel herself breathing easier in the familiarity of Curtis’s lab.

But her feelings of safety are short-lived.

“Umm…Felicity?” Curtis’s voice cuts into the silence nearly two hours later.

“Hmm?” she asks, her blonde ponytail swinging as her head turns from her computer screen to focus on Curtis.

“I…it’s just…”

“Sentence fragments, Curtis, we’ve talked about this,” she teases lightly.

“I have emails,” he finally grits out. “Bad ones. From an IP address I can’t trace. It might be-”

“You think it might be the admirer,” she states without bothering to phrase it as a question.

“Admirer may not be the right word… I’d try stalker based on these emails. Personal and work accounts, filled with messages telling me to stay away from you.” He meets her eyes, smiling sadly before returning his attention to the desktop. “Guess they don’t know I play for the other team, huh?”

Felicity can hear the slight tremor in his voice and knows that the emails are worse than he’ll admit.

“Curtis. What do they say?”

His face shifts into something that Felicity can only describe as calculating before she hears his hesitant response.

“Death threats, mostly. Along the lines of ‘Stay away or I’ll hunt you down’. Some, uh…some are about you, though.”

“He…” she trails off. “He actually wrote about me? To you?”

“Yeah…look at this one.”

She makes her way to Curtis’s desktop and gasps when she sees the email titles woven through both his company and personal emails. Titles containing threats to both his life and his mother’s, angry slurs, her own name once or twice, the words ‘stay away’ flashing at her like neon signs.

“Curtis…I’m so sorry, I-”

But her words are cut off when she finally sees the message he had called her over to read.

_Do you think keeping her in another office will stop me from seeing her? I always know where she is._

She feels the blood drain from her face as she slumps forward in her chair, her breath leaving her in a long _whoosh_ that sends her mind reeling.

He knows where she is.

He found Curtis.

He _threatened_ Curtis.

He’s a threat.

“Felicity,” Curtis breaks her from her thoughts. “I think it’s time to call Oliver now.”

*****

Despite the threats made on his life because if his proximity to Felicity, Curtis does not once leave her side while she waits for Oliver to arrive.

And words cannot describe her gratitude.

Though her terror hasn’t nearly reached Count Vertigo or Slade Wilson proportions, a stranger is clearly watching her every move, threatening her friends, and doing very little to hide his endgame: getting to her.

She counts down the minutes, eyes flickering to Curtis’s stoic stance near the door, until she can hear the heavy footsteps of someone racing through the hall.

“Felicity? Felicity!” she hears her fiancé’s panicked voice from three doors down.

“I’m here, I’m okay,” she calls back.

Curtis cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes in confusion, silently asking her why she feels the need to respond when he’ll be entering the room any minute. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, pointing to the door with her chin.

_Just watch._

When Oliver comes into view less than thirty seconds later, his body nearly taking up the entire doorway, all traces of confusion fade from Curtis’s face.

Oliver looks terrified. His eyes search the room frantically before they settle on her, and it’s like the weight of the world has suddenly slipped from his shoulders. He releases a heavy breath, his gait slightly unbalanced as his shoulders slump forward in pure relief. He quickly walks to her and crouches to the balls of his feet to bring them at eye level.

He shakes his head lightly, scanning her for injury before he moves to cradle her face in both his hands.

“Are you okay?” he asks hesitantly.

She brings her hands to rest on his wrists, thumbs skimming over his pulse as she nods.

He presses a kiss to her forehead before he moves his arms and turns to address her employee for the first time.

“Thanks for your help, Curtis,” Oliver commends with a nod.

Felicity almost laughs when she sees the stunned expression on Curtis’s face. His mouth is open, gaping at the two of them before he meets her eyes.

She shrugs almost imperceptibly. _Told you._

His head tips up slightly, the look of confusion once more written on his face, and tips back down in a nod of unsure acknowledgement.

“It umm…it was nothing.”

Oliver returns his attention to Felicity, and she has to remind herself twice that Curtis is still in the room before she can think of leaping into Oliver’s arms.

“We need to think of somewhere safe for you to go until we find him,” Oliver tells her, placing his hands on her knees for balance.

“I want to go home.”

“Felicity-”

“I don’t give my personal address to anyone, and the loft is still under Thea’s name. He doesn’t have any reason to go looking there. Please?”

She knows she’s pleading, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s exhausted, frightened, hungry, and all she wants to do is crawl into her own bed and sleep until the nightmare is over.

Oliver holds her stare for a moment longer before he concedes and follows her through the building to the parking garage on the condition that she’ll start working from home.

After the day she’s had, it’s not difficult for her to agree.

*****

Oliver had insisted on the car ride back that Felicity have access to the entire apartment while she works from home, which leaves her watching, perched in her chair, as Oliver and Diggle transport the bed, the dresser, her clothes, from hers and Oliver’s master bedroom upstairs to the guest room at the end of the first floor hall.

She tries not to notice the ache in her chest when she realizes that she can’t help, especially when she’s the reason for the move, but the tingle of hurt makes itself known nevertheless.

She pushes herself towards the kitchen and focuses her energy on making them sandwiches for their hard work, and finds herself surprised to find that they’re already done.

_I guess being a vigilante has some practical applications after all_.

*****

When John leaves for the night to see Lyla and tuck in baby Sara, Oliver has to pry Felicity from her laptop.

She’s spent nearly four hours attempting to trace the IP number associated with the emails sent to Curtis, to no avail. She can’t get a location, and the pseudonym her stalker used to send the emails bears no resemblance to anyone in any government database.

She sighs and closes the laptop, realizing that she’s probably too exhausted to make any more headway in the investigation. She pulls herself from her seat on the couch and into her chair, twisting to pop the kink in her neck and rolling her shoulders as she wheels herself to the bedroom at the end of the hall.

She watches Oliver enter the room behind her and walk to their shared closet before he asks her what she wants to wear to bed.

“Green hoodie?” she asks shyly, and Oliver smiles.

He reaches into the second drawer of the dresser, pulling out his favorite green hoodie and tossing it to her where she now lies in the middle of their bed. He grins when he sees her sit up to slip the hoodie over her head, instantly being swallowed up by the too big material, and humming thoughtfully as she turns her nose into the collar and inhales.

He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

He quickly gets ready for bed, chuckling when he sees his tiny Felicity attempting to take up as much of the bed as she possibly can. She’s sprawled on her back, arms extended on either side with a small smile on her face.

He moves the arm draped across his side of the bed and lays down, laughing at her little squeak when he pulls her closer like he doesn’t do it every night.

She shifts against his chest before tucking herself under his chin and sighing contently. He curls himself protectively around her, hoping to keep the nightmares at bay with his presence alone.

“I love you, Felicity. And I won’t let him get to you. I swear.”

“I love you too, Oliver,” is her yawned reply before she relaxes against him completely.

The last thing she hears before she drifts to sleep is the steady huff of Oliver’s breaths against her temple and the sound of a 60s song blaring from a car parked on the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think! And comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity finds an unexpected surprise at the loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for following the story and leaving kudos and comments! You guys are amazing! I seriously appreciate it!

When the dappled sunlight filters into hers and Oliver's apartment the next morning, Felicity wakes easily, stretching her arms over her head and releasing the tension from the sore muscles in her back.

She reaches an arm across the bed, huffing and pouting when she realizes that Oliver is already gone, no doubt organizing another event for his mayoral campaign that will cost her company a ridiculous amount of money.

_He's saving the city_ , she reminds herself.

_Well, while he's doing that_ … she decides that she's going to relax. Maybe take a hot bath, read some Jane Austin, run a few facial recognition programs for the city's latest superbad...

When her arm meets a cool, rough texture on Oliver's side of the mattress, Felicity grabs what appears to be a note and opens the folded pages.

She assumes it must be an explanation from Oliver, describing the reason for his absence before ten on a Saturday morning, but the handwriting and the pet name glaring off the paper she holds demolish any chances of having a relaxing day.

 

_My Angel,_

_I could watch you sleep for hours, but my time is limited as I take in the sight of you peacefully dreaming. I wonder what you dream of, if any part of your wildest imagination envisions me there beside you. I wish I could stay here forever, with you, protecting you while you sleep, but I know your Oliver will be arriving soon._

_Your hair is so soft and beautiful, yellow like the sunshine that I know lives in your soul. I combed it for you. There's no need to thank me, all the thanks I need came from seeing you once more._

_I've seen that you wear Oliver's sweatshirts to bed, my darling, but I'm assuming it is because you have nothing of mine to comfort you. I'll be sure to leave you something of mine to wear. Maybe then you'll dream of me._

_\- Your Love_

 

Her hand drops the note immediately, her breathing becoming labored as each realization hits her full force.

He had gotten into their home. The home that she and Oliver had spent so long trying to make feel as safe and secure and real as their home in Ivy Town. The home that baby Sara and Lyla had spent their afternoon in only two weeks ago, helping Felicity feel confident enough to present her speech in front of potential investors.

He knows when Oliver gets home from his mayoral meetings, which means that he knows the exact hours she spends alone.

He watched her sleep. While she dreamed of Oliver and their travels throughout the world, a stranger watched over her and brushed the hair from her face.

He had "seen that she wore Oliver's sweatshirts to bed". This was not the first time he had seen her sleep, then. He had now invaded every space that she had previously deemed safe, and had apparently done so often enough to know things as intimate as what she prefers to wear to bed.

He said he would bring her his clothes to sleep in, which means that he fully intends to come back, to watch her sleep, to touch her without her knowing, to give her things that belonged to him in an obvious show of possession.

But the most disturbing revelation presents itself when she spots her wheelchair in the far corner of her room, flowers adorning nearly every inch of it. Vases of yellow flowers shine at her as they rest against the seat, while individual sunflowers are woven within the spokes of the wheels. She knows her the horror is written on her face as she realizes that he had purposely moved her wheelchair across the room, leaving her stranded and defenseless in the middle of her bed where she no longer feels safe.

She tears the note and screams as she throws the remains onto the floor of their bedroom, silent tears streaming down her face as she prays for the pieces to turn to ash in front of her.

She can't breathe. She's shaking so hard she starts to wonder if it's possible for a person to actually fly apart, but she knows she needs to keep some semblance of calm about her in case her stalker decides to make a reappearance while she's still alone.

Alone.

_Oliver_. She needs to call Oliver.

Her hands shake as she reaches for the cell phone that she gratefully notes her stalker hadn’t taken. She misdials twice before finally entering Oliver's number correctly and pressing the call icon.

She waits with bated breath, the eerie silence punctured by the ringing that soon turns into her fiancé’s worried voice.

"Felicity?" he answers, which brings a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.

"Oliver," she whimpers out, and that's all he needs to hear.

"Felicity, honey, I'm coming. It'll be okay. I'm on my way. Just listen to me, okay? Don't hang up the phone."

"Oliver... He was here, I..."

She can hear him release a growl on the other end of the line, no doubt running to his car as quickly as possible, but the voice he uses to speak to her is calming. He uses the tone she's only ever heard him take with her, and it settles something deep inside her.

"It's okay. He's gone now, and I'll be there soon. I love you, Felicity. I love you, and it'll be okay."

She doesn't know how many times he repeats those phrases, but eventually her breathing starts to regain some normalcy. Her heart starts to slow, though the shaking never eases in its severity, as she focuses solely on Oliver's words. She knows she's whimpering pitifully into her cell phone, and she knows by the tightness in Oliver's voice that he's struggling nearly as much as she is.

The seconds drag to minutes as Oliver's soothing tones ease some of her fears, before she hears the door to the loft being thrown open. She cries out at the sudden noise and intrusion, but Oliver's voice over the phone she still holds pulls her back.

"It's just me, hon. I'm walking through the hall now."

*****

The call cuts off as Oliver hastily makes his way into their room, scanning the area for any potential threats before he takes in Felicity's shaking form leaning against the headboard. Her arms are folded across her abdomen like she's attempting to hold herself together, glasses seemingly discarded on their comforter next to her cell phone, eyes glassy and fogged over as she takes in his sudden appearance. She's still wearing his green hoodie, and she just looks so damn small and broken that his heart feels like it's shattering in his chest, the broken pieces piercing his lungs and making it nearly impossible to breathe.

"Felicity," he coaxes gently. "Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"

She's still shaking uncontrollably, and Oliver is a little afraid that she's going to faint before he understands why she's so terrified. She reaches a hand out and points to one corner of the room. When Oliver's gaze follows her movement, he gasps.

"He was here," she chokes out. "He left a note, Oliver. He watches me and knows when I'm alone and knows that I sleep in your sweatshirts... He brushed my hair when I was sleeping and moved my wheelchair and promised to bring me his clothes to sleep in and Oliver..."

Oliver blanches at her words, but doesn't attempt to dispute them. He knows by the way she's shaking and crying that everything she's said is true. His beautiful guiding light is once again being pulled into darkness, and she's clearly not sure she’ll make it out unscathed.

"You know," she starts as her eyes get glassier and more unfocused, "You with Cupid and me with this guy, we make a pretty interesting pair. Maybe we could start a club, make t-shirts."

She's making jokes, which means she's even more upset than she's let on.

He doesn't know how to fix this.

Felicity starts to shake harder, her teeth chattering as she tries to make herself as small as possible in the middle of their bed. She reaches for him, and it's all the signal he needs to wrap her in his arms, clutching her tighter in an effort to warm her as the shock works its way through her system.

He doesn't bother asking if she's okay. He knows that she isn't.

"Felicity, I'm going to get you out of here, okay? We're going to go to the lair, and nothing bad will happen to you there, I promise. Let me just call Diggle. He'll meet us there."

Oliver sees his fiancé nod slightly, but he knows she won't remember this later. She's so far gone.

While Oliver speaks to Digg, he sees Felicity start several times, taking in her surroundings and watching him carefully, and he knows she's losing time. She looks so surprised and so sad every time it happens that he's forcibly reminded of the time he had saved her from the Count nearly two years ago. Same glassy eyes, trembling, gaze shifting frantically like she can’t remember where she is. Shock.

She's so strong and resilient and pure that he can't believe something this sickening is happening to her. That these things _keep_ happening to her.

John agrees to meet them at the lair, and Oliver makes quick work of gathering Felicity in his arms, carefully placing her in the passenger seat of his car when they reach the parking lot.

He grips her hand tightly on the drive to his campaign office and silently prays that he'll know how to save the love of his life from the darkness.

*****

He can't understand it. She's crying, shaking like she's going to be sick. She looks so tired and afraid and sad and he honestly can't understand it.

She tore up the beautiful note he left her, throwing the pieces on the ground and staring at them as they hit the floor one by one. She screamed when she saw the gorgeous flowers he had placed around the constant reminder that she couldn’t walk. He thought she would love it.

It must be for Oliver's benefit. She can't very well appear excited at the prospect of being loved by a man who isn't her fiancé. Oh, his Angel is so smart. She'll throw Oliver off track and then make her move when he isn't expecting it.

He watches her play her role. Though he admires her resolve, his heart breaks each minute he watches his love pretend to be in so much distress. He wants to comfort her, reach out to her and let her see him for the first time. He wants to do whatever he can to stop her shaking and crying. He loves her so much; he can't stand to see her in so much pain, even if it is for his gain.

He nearly breaks away from his hidden position on the balcony when he hears the door being thrown open and then sees a breathless Oliver Queen advancing toward his Felicity. He can't hear their hushed conversation, but soon she's being pulled into his arms and carried through the door to be taken away.

He's furious. His Angel is being taken away, and he doesn't know where. What if she calls for him and he can't find her?

_That's it_ , he decides. He needs to get his Felicity away from Oliver Queen.

*****

Felicity's hands are shaking uncontrollably, and she discovers she's lost time. When her heavy eyes blink open once again, she's in the campaign office, in Oliver's arms as he carries her toward the elevator. She can make out the individual buttons, which means that she's wearing her glasses, but she doesn't remember slipping them onto her nose. Her thoughts are coming both too quickly and too slowly, her racing mind too focused on the 'what-ifs' to realize that Oliver is practically vibrating from fear beneath her.

Felicity remembers her stalker at MIT; the sad, rejected lacrosse player who followed her around constantly, eventually scared off by one of her louder roommates. But that college boy infatuation is clearly nothing compared to the crazed adoration of the man trying to find her now.

She wishes more than anything that she could run.

She hadn't felt the need to curse her injury when facing down any of the notorious criminals hunting Team Arrow, even when faced with the crippling self-loathing that assaulted her through her medically-induced hallucinations. She hadn't feared being paralyzed when facing Darhk, who had sought her out as a target on multiple occasions; who had mystical powers that could have ended her life in seconds without Darhk even touching her.

So why was this so different?

_Because he's a normal person_ , answered a diminutive voice in the back of her mind. _He's not out for revenge or an agenda to rule the city, and he's not after the team. He's after_ you _._

She's lost time again, she notices, as Oliver places her in her wheelchair in front of the monitors and crouches down before her. She hadn't seen him bring her chair down, but, knowing Oliver, he has spares tucked away in several rooms for occasions such as this. Or it could be the wheelchair from the loft, stripped of the flowers previously tangled around it. She has to admit she hasn't been devoting much of her attention to her surroundings after Oliver had come to her rescue.

Her rescue.

_God, I'm one of those damsels in distress, aren't I? One of those sad, pathetic girls whose boyfriends have to save them. I was never that girl. Never. But I can't even walk down the street to get a cup of coffee, much less defend myself. What if..._

She doesn't realize she's speaking out loud until Oliver answers her increasingly troubling inner monologue.

"Felicity, honey, breathe. You're the strongest person I know. You are not - nor have you ever been - a damsel in distress. I'm sure you could take care of yourself just fine on your own, but I'm not leaving you for even a second, because I can't stand the thought of..." He shakes his head, as if trying to dispel the terror he feels, and clears his throat twice before choking out, "You'll make it through this," around the lump in his throat.

Oliver's panicked voice strikes a nerve within Felicity. She fights her way through the wall of anxiety separating her from the real world, and notices that Oliver's hands are gripping hers painfully tightly as he tries to control his own emotions. A small whimper slips through her lips when she registers the pain, and it's enough for Oliver to drop her hands like he's been burned.

Before her mind is even able to contemplate her movements, Felicity scrambles for his hand, arm, waist, anything she can reach and use to tether her to reality. Her head is screaming at her to stop being so clingy because this isn't who she is, but the note she found in their apartment replays on a loop in the back of her mind and all she wants is Oliver.

He must understand, because suddenly she's being pulled into his chest. He lifts her carefully and hesitantly from her chair, but the moment he fully supports her weight, he crushes her to him, lowering them down to the floor of the new lair with her cradled in his arms. She twists as much as her upper body will allow without the use of her legs and twines an arm into his Henley to pull him closer, burying her nose into his neck as she surrounds herself with his smell, his touch, the soothing words she just now realizes are being whispered in her ear.

*****

Felicity doesn't pull back from Oliver until she feels a hand - that is decidedly not her fiancé’s - land across her back. She starts violently and cries out before she realizes that it's just Digg, meeting them in the lair just as Oliver had promised.

Her heart tries to slow down to its normal rhythm as she gathers the remainder of her strength, devoting her every available thought to remembering that he can't reach her down here; that she could not possibly be safer in Oliver's arms as John rests a large hand on her shoulder.

"Hey girl, how are you holding up?" Diggle asks her, and she can't help the panicked laughter that escapes her.

"Right, awful question," he answers himself. "We'll find this son of a bitch, Felicity, I can promise you that. And, until then, Laurel and Thea want to check in on the two of you. If you're up for company?"

Digg poses it as a question, but Felicity knows that there isn't really a choice to make. Her soon-to-be sister-in-law does not often heed others' attempts to tell her no, especially where her brother and Felicity are concerned. The youngest Queen will soon be storming the lair regardless of her and Oliver's wishes, so Felicity nods, resigned.

Oliver appears less sure, watching her carefully before clutching her closer and making some affirmative noise in Diggle's direction.

When Oliver's shaking becomes more manageable, and he feels he can let go of Felicity without falling apart himself, he places her back in her wheelchair, remaining close by and firmly grasping her hand within both of his own.

Felicity hears the deep tenor of John's voice as he assures Thea and Laurel that she’s fine - shaken up, but otherwise unharmed - and she uses his words to tear herself away from the vestiges of terror threatening to pull her back under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! As always, feel free to leave kudos and comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lair and the Diggle's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, thank you so much for sticking with the story!
> 
> Gentle reminder, if you don't like the story or hate my writing, you don't need to comment and tell me. I'm actually starting to get panic attacks when I get emails telling me there are comments, and it makes me really not want to share my writing. (Those kind of comments will just be deleted, anyway.) I write because I enjoy it and like to share it with others, so if you're not a fan, you have my full support to stop reading :)
> 
> But other comments are totally appreciated and I adore them! Thank you so much for your kind comments and kudos!
> 
> Fair warning: I'm in the middle of EDNOS recovery and will be starting school again next week, so I'm about to be crazy stressed out and busy. Updates will probably start to be few and far between, so I'm sorry and thank you for your patience in advance!

Felicity hears Thea before she sees the tiny brunette racing through the new lair in obvious distress. She notes Laurel’s commanding presence behind her in passing, but it’s the younger girl demanding attention as she sweeps through the lair.

Her labored breaths seem to echo against the silence of the room, the gazes of the three occupants snapping to her as she sprints from the campaign elevator.

Felicity flinches unconsciously as Thea moves closer, still slightly unsure of her surroundings as the shock weaves its way through her system, and the slight movement is enough to stop Thea in her tracks. She backs away slowly, concerned eyes shifting from Oliver to Felicity to Digg, clearly looking for answers.

Diggle gestures to the training mats in the corner of the Foundry and motions for Thea to follow. She casts worried glances over her shoulder to her brother and his fiancé, but surprisingly doesn’t attempt to argue and remain by their sides.

Oliver watches guardedly as Digg explains the situation to Thea, whose eyes widen as she takes in Felicity’s appearance. She nods thoughtfully, but her eyes are only focused on her brother.

He wants to speak with her, to comfort her as he always has, but he can’t pull himself away from Felicity.

He stares back, hoping to convey his solidarity, when he’s pulled from his introspection violently by a figure he hadn’t seen approaching.

“Go,” Laurel nods toward his sister. “Talk to Thea, she’s worried about you. I’ll stay with Felicity.”

Her tone brooks no argument, but Oliver still feels the need to push back, to fight any logic that dictates he leave Felicity while she’s so clearly shaken. He scratches a harsh line from his forehead to his temple as he contemplates her offer, and he sees her eyes soften at his obvious uneasiness.

He eyes her warily as she reaches out to place a calming hand on his shoulder, noticing that her gaze shifts from him to Felicity, who still has tremors wracking her body but appears significantly more aware of her surroundings.

“We love her too, Ollie,” Laurel says softly, pulling his attention from his fiancé. “We won’t let anything happen to her. You just go take care of Thea.”

He doesn’t want to leave her, but he knows that Laurel is right. His eyes cut from a slowly recovering Felicity to a clearly agitated Thea pacing a hole through the Foundry concrete, now sans Diggle, and he knows that Thea needs him more than Felicity does.

He nods slowly, pinning Laurel with a look that clearly says _take care of her_ before he places a kiss to Felicity’s temple and joins his sister across the room.

*****

“She’s okay, right, Ollie?” Thea’s voice carries over before he’s had a chance to fully cross the Foundry.

He turns to look at Felicity, who is now partially hidden by her new protector.

Laurel crouches in front of Felicity, her hand slipping gracefully through Felicity’s tousled hair in a gesture of comfort he’s only seen her use with Thea and Sara. He can’t hear the soothing words she whispers to her charge, but Oliver hears Laurel’s tone carry across the silence, seeing Felicity meet Laurel’s eyes before she nods slowly. Within moments, Felicity’s eyes slip shut while Laurel continues her task.

“Yeah,” he responds, his heart torn by his competing emotions of panic and stark relief. He’s terrified of losing her, but he’s starting to realize that he’s not the only one. And that could make all the difference. “Yeah, she’ll be fine.”

“Thank God,” Thea huffs out heavily. She pauses and searches his face before she dares risk asking, “Are _you_ okay?”

The incredulity in his expression is immediate, his temper flaring as he bites back, “Felicity is the one you should be worrying about.”

She folds her arms across her chest in defiance and levels him with a glare of her own, before her posture loosens and her eyes shift to the floor in contrition.

“I’m not trying to downplay anything for Felicity. Really. It’s just…” she bites her cheek and considers her next words carefully. “We both know that if we lose that girl, you’re never coming back, Ollie.”

The tension leaks from his body like a waterfall, and he understands the reason for Thea’s panic. She’s worried about losing him. Again.

“We’re not going to lose her,” he says with more confidence than he’s felt since the notes first appeared in her office. “And you’re not going to lose me, Speedy. Ever. Okay?”

She looks unconvinced, but nods slowly and accepts his answer for what it is: the most he can give her.

*****

By some unspoken agreement, Thea and Laurel leave the Foundry an hour later, leaving Oliver and a fully functioning Felicity in the care of John Diggle.

He watches the couple whisper back and forth for several minutes, hands clasped over his stomach as he reclines in an old office chair against the corner. His lips tick up in a small smile when he sees Felicity reach out and take Oliver’s hand in a small gesture of comfort. She _has_ to be back to normal if she’s the one doing the comforting.

John sees the pinch in Felicity’s brow in response to something Oliver says, and he knows from the tension in both of their shoulders that, whatever it is they’re discussing, it probably needs to wait until they’ve taken a nap and cleared their heads.

“Okay lovebirds, time to fly the coop,” Diggle chuckles, rising from his seat and stretching his arms, feeling the muscles pull from hours of inactivity.

Felicity’s eyes widen and he realizes belatedly that he should have chosen his words more carefully.

“I’m not kicking you out if you don’t want to go, Felicity,” he says cautiously. “But I was gonna suggest that you and Oliver crash at mine and Lyla’s for a while.”

Her head tilts down toward her shoulder in contemplation.

“If…if he comes back… What about baby Sara?” she asks quietly.

Digg makes no move but to shake his head and smile fondly. Of _course_ , in the midst of a stalker and death threats and intruders, Felicity is still only worried about others’ well beings.

“Let me worry about him and Sara, and you worry about getting some rest.”

She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down and tugging it back through her teeth before she makes a vaguely affirmative noise.

Diggle watches Oliver worry over the tiny blonde as they get ready to leave, noticing how careful he is as he maneuvers her around the cluttered space. Oliver gathers Felicity into his arms, completely ignoring her wheelchair in an effort to be closer to her. Digg is sure that Oliver needs the contact more than Felicity does, and judging by soothing touches along his collarbone and on the back of his neck, she knows it too.

He turns the light to the foundry off, carrying Felicity’s wheelchair as he steps into the elevator and hopes for a quiet afternoon.

*****

The afternoon and evening pass relatively incident free, the only exception being an overtired Sara who refuses to sleep while ‘Cissy’ and ‘Ahver’ are over to play. They bribe her to sleep easily enough with promises of stories and Cheerios in the morning, but by 6:30p.m., pinching the skin on the inside of her elbows is all Felicity can do to keep herself awake.

She starts to nod off with her head resting against the back of the couch when Oliver slides a warm hand up and down the length of her arm.

“Tired?” he asks her quietly, not making any secret of noticing the bags laying heavy under her eyes.

“Exhausted, actually,” she answers honestly. “I think I might head to bed; just read and call it a night. You in?”

He sighs and glances toward the guest bedroom, shaking his head sadly before meeting Diggle’s eyes from the recliner near the couch.

“I should probably talk to Lance. See if there’s anything he can figure out to help us.”

Diggle nods in acceptance, but Felicity’s eyes snap to Oliver’s.

“He can’t say anything to my mom,” she blurts out with no preamble.

“What?” Oliver and John ask in near perfect unison.

“My mom,” she clarifies. “I don’t want Lance to tell my mom. They’re…ugh, dating now, I guess, but I don’t… I don’t want her to know just yet. She’ll just worry and I’ll never be alone again-”

“No telling Donna, got it,” Oliver confirms, helping Felicity escape the overly soft couch cushions and sink back into her wheelchair.

His eyes follows her as she wheels down the hallway, before he realizes that she probably hasn’t eaten all day.

“Felicity,” he calls down the hall. He waits for her to pause and glance over her shoulder before continuing, “Big Belly Burger? I’ll bring it back with me?”

She smiles and nods, starting to feels the pangs of hunger in her belly, and wastes no more time rolling down the hallway and toward the safety and comfort of the guest bedroom.

*****

When Oliver finally strides into the precinct, his eyes rapidly scan the room for Lance while he tries to avoid the scowls being sent from nearly every direction.

One officer reclines in her chair, eyeing him warily as she reaches for her coffee; another pointedly glares from his position near the copier; yet another suspiciously glances from Oliver to the Captain’s office and back. If there were any doubts that the other officers resented the added trouble with his mayoral campaign, they would be erased now.

"Queen," Oliver hears Lance bark from across the room. "What kind of mayhem are you coming to unleash on me today, huh?"

Lance’s posture is defensive, arms folded across his chest with his head tilted forward. His facial expression is almost malicious, but his eyes just look…tired. This thing with Darhk must be taking more of a toll than Oliver had believed.

Oliver's face remains solemn as he takes in Lance’s appearance and rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

"It's Felicity…” he starts, “She’s-"

"She's okay, right?" Lance demands, expression turning worried and arms dropping to his sides. “I swear, Queen, if you’ve gotten that girl into even more trouble then I’m-”

"She okay, it’s just… Someone's after her," he admits. His eyes flicker to the floor and suddenly the guilt at leaving her nearly swallows him whole. He can’t bear to meet the Captain’s judgmental gaze.

“Someone relating to our little ghost problem?” Lance asks quietly.

“No, nothing like that… She has a stalker. Someone left her flowers and notes at work…” he trails off.

“Queen, you’ve got to help me out here. Giving flowers isn’t something I can arrest someone for.”

Oliver feels his thumb begin tracing circles against his middle and pointer fingers as he chooses his next words carefully.

“He got into our apartment when I wasn’t there, and I just… I have no idea how far this guy is willing to go. She’s refusing a security detail but if you could search her office and find anything-”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says, scrubbing a hand hard over his face. “Not sure what I should tell Donna, she’s gonna be so worried over her girl-”

“Nothing,” Oliver interrupts. “Don’t tell Donna anything. Felicity said she’ll call her later, but for now, she wants to keep her mother out of it.”

Lance nods slowly, brows slipping together as he considers Oliver’s words.

“Alright. I’ll get started and let you know if I find anything.”

"Thank you for your help, Captain."

"What can I say?” Lance sighs, a small smile gracing his face. “Can't stand you, but your girl is something special. Take care of her, Queen."

Oliver’s lips curl into a self-deprecating smile as he turns from Lance and makes his way to his motorcycle.

_Big Belly Burger, then back to Felicity._

*********

Felicity remembers crawling under the warm comforter and lifting the blanket to tuck securely under her chin. She remembers tracing the spine of her book resting on the nightstand and deciding to read a chapter before bed. She remembers reading, scoffing at the main character’s decision to hunt down the villain and laughing when the irony is not lost on her.

She doesn’t remember falling asleep.

She wakes with an arm slung across her face, her novel resting against her chest as the lamp shines brightly in stark contract against the darkness of the room. Her hand shoots out toward the lamp in an attempt to block the blinding light when her fingers collide with something resting on her nightstand.

The sound of paper crinkling is nearly deafening in the silence of the room and she starts violently, eyes flying to the source of the noise. She blinks against the brightness of the lamp and straightens the glasses slipping down her nose. When her eyes finally focus on the large paper bag, she smiles. The words “Big Belly Burger” stand stark red against the white of the bag, and her stomach starts growling immediately.

_Thank God,_ she thinks. _I’m starving._

Felicity makes quick work of opening the bag, peeling the wrapping off one of her favorite Big Belly cheeseburgers and nearly moaning when the taste of the still warm burger hits her tongue. She finishes her food more quickly than is probably ladylike or even safe and sighs contentedly, running a hand over her full stomach.

She decides to read another chapter before falling asleep and reaches for book, laying down against the comforter and settling in for the night. She reads a few pages before the words starts to shift uncomfortably and her eyes start to lose focus. She feels exhausted, losing feeling in her limbs as fatigue pulls at her muscles, and her head swims. She can’t quite name the feeling tugging at her heart and mind, but she chalks it up to exhaustion and leans over, replacing her book on the nightstand, turning off the lamp, and plunging the room into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are fantastic! Have a great week!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something isn't quite right...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you so much for the overwhelmingly kind comments I've received over the past few days! You guys are seriously amazing, and you have no idea how much I needed it. So thank you! You're wonderful! I seriously adore the comments you guys are leaving!
> 
> Just another head's up, my life is about to get super crazy so regular updates probably won't be a thing. I appreciate your patience in advance!
> 
> This chapter is a little bit shorter due to some time restraints, but I still hope you like it!

The light in the guest room hasn’t been extinguished for more than ten minutes before everything shifts from cloudy to completely nonsensical and utterly terrifying.

The shadows being cast by the passing cars flit across the walls like wolves circling their prey, their shapes undefined but no less alive and searching for her. She swears she can feel them closing in on her, hear their panting and feel their hungry gazes as they wait for their moment to pounce. She catches flashes of darkness in more corners than she can count. Something is coming for her, she knows that beyond the shadow of a doubt.

She tries to grasp onto the thoughts racing around her, tries to rationalize her fears, but they dance just out of her reach and her mind becomes unbearably blank. She can't even process why that makes her want to cry. Nothing coherent can hope to be pushed through the haziness that has overtaken her. All that registers is fear.

She tries to scream, but her muscles are too heavy to follow even that simple command. She knows she needs to move, that something is very wrong, that her body shouldn't feel so numb and bone-tired, that she should be able to lift her head.

She wishes she could shoot out a hand, call for help, but she can't. Her eyes can barely remain open. She feels them starting to roll in the back of her head as the panting from the shadows raises to a deafening level, and she finally becomes aware of the shaking in her limbs that has left her paralyzed in more than just her legs. Her teeth are chattering, and she thinks that she may have bitten her tongue based on the way her mouth is slowly filling with blood that tastes like copper and leaves her gagging.

The shortened breaths of the hellhounds still jerking wildly along the white walls slow and mutate into something that Felicity can't identify...a light pounding that reverberates through her skull and makes her whimper. Footsteps. The shadows must be getting closer.

She desperately wishes for someone to find her, for someone to realize that the house is trying to swallow her whole. She tries to pull her consciousness as far from the room as she possibly can, but it only draws the beasts closer.

She feels a light brush against her face, and she knows that she's run out of time. One of the shadows has her.

Her head turns on the pillow as she tries to pull herself from its grasp, but it's hopeless. The bed dips near her hip as a gentle hand brushes against her wet cheek - _has she been crying?_ Oh god, she can't _remember_ \- smoothing hair away from her face as the shadow leans over her. Her eyes are barely open, focusing for only seconds before lolling back once more, but she can vaguely trace the outline of a man as he tilts closer and closer toward where she is completely prone on the bed.

She can feel his breath on her cheek, smell the cologne from his jacket. He's too close.

She tries to turn away from him, but she can feel consciousness slipping away from her every moment he spends chasing her frightened tears with the pad of his thumb.

When he leans closer to place a kiss to her forehead, she remembers nothing else.

*****

When Diggle feels the vibration of the phone in his back pocket, he doesn't bother checking the caller I.D. before answering.

"Oliver, man, I told you she's fine. She said she was going to read for a little bit and then go to sleep. She's had a rough day."

He can practically hear Oliver pacing the length of the burger place as he responds.

"Can you just look in on her?" Oliver practically growls. "She usually sends me a text before she falls asleep, and-"

"Aww, aren't you two adorable," John can't help but interrupt.

"No, Digg, listen. She didn't text me, and I'm worried. Can't you just do this for me? ...Please?"

"Oliver Queen, actually saying please," Diggle laughs. "Never thought I'd see the day."

He hears Oliver's frustrated groan on the other line, and decides to take pity on him. He can only imagine what it would be like to have to leave Lyla, knowing someone wanted to get to her badly enough to stalk her and threaten those around her.

"Fine, man. I'll check on her if it'll make you stop being so growly, but if she wakes up and uses her loud voice, I'm holding you responsible."

John sighs deeply before leisurely strolling through the hallway toward the guest room. No light shines beneath the door, and the room is silent. She must be sleeping.

Using patience and a deftness that could only belong to a soldier, he silently turns the handle and searches the dark room for the tiny blonde that he can't help but think of as his family.

What he sees makes his vision go red.

Felicity is whimpering, mumbling something about wolves and shadows, nearly shaking out of her skin as her head lolls limply from side to side. A man is leaning above her, whispering words that John can't hear as he brushes his fingers against her cheek. The stranger leans down further to place a kiss against her forehead, and John barely contains the blinding rage stirring within his gut.

He remains silent as he shifts along the wall, thanking the heavens that whoever Felicity's stalker is, he is clearly not trained. Each step is carefully placed, meant to bring him nearer to the man without alerting him to his presence, but the man eventually realizes that something is wrong.

The stalker shifts his gaze from Felicity for a split second, but it's long enough for his eyes to snap to Diggle when he's still several feet away. The man screams and Diggle launches himself at him, dropping the phone and crying profanities as he realizes the stalker is surprisingly fast. The stranger feints left before turning hard on his heel to the right, narrowly escaping Diggle's attack before throwing himself out the window and running into the cover of night.

*****

When Oliver hears the phone clash to the floor, he starts demanding answers that he know won't come. He wants to know what's happening, what those noises are, why Felicity was whimpering and why she's stopped.

But he knows why.

He crushes the phone in his palm, cursing and shouting as he sprints to his motorcycle, ready to break every law to get to Felicity as fast as he can.

*****

The first few moments after Felicity is thrown back into consciousness are disorienting. She remembers reading...deciding to turn off the lamp when her vision started to cloud...feeling shaky...

Then the cold weight of what had occurred settles into her bones and slams her back into reality.

Her hands are shaking, her teeth chattering of their own accord, but she's starting to regain feeling in her arms and neck. Her thoughts are completely terrifying, replaying what she remembers, but at least they're organized and coherent.

"He gave you part of a sedative and part of...something else," Diggle offers from his place near the foot of the bed.

She starts violently, not realizing that she hadn't been alone, and pulls herself up against the headboard. She's beyond grateful for his company. She's not sure she ever wants to be alone again.

"Wh-what else?" she tries to ask, but her voice is weak and shaky, pitiful even to her own ears.

Digg sighs, his face slipping into the mask she knows he wears for his missions. Her heart breaks a little in knowing that John feels he has to hide from her.

"Looks like some kind of Vertigo knockoff."

"Vertigo?" she asks, surprised. "How...how do you know?"

"Dropped the bottles when he ran out. They were on the floor next to the bed."

"I'm so sorry, John," she chokes out around the lump in her throat. Fresh tears burn behind her eyes as she continues, "I just thought you or Oliver had brought the food. I didn't know... I should have realized, I..."

"I know, Felicity. It's okay."

Her eyes dart around the room before she asks, "How long was I out?"

"Not long. Fifteen minutes, maybe. It had to have been in your system for a while. Did you feel funny before you went to bed?"

She nods, but she can't find the strength to talk anymore. Her entire body aches from the drugs leaving her system.

"Oliver's on his way. Probably breaking every law known to man to get here as fast as possible. He'll be here soon."

At the mention of Oliver, Felicity crumples in half and sobs, the feeling of Digg scooting closer to wrap his arms around her a small comfort.

"You're okay, girl. You're okay," he whispers.

She doesn't dwell on the terror that fills her heart when she considers that it may not be true for long.

*****

She fights sleep for as long as she's able, desperate to see Oliver, to feel the safety and security she's been longing for since the walls of the guest room came to life around her, but she feels exhaustion pulling her toward unconsciousness. She must make some noise as she jerks awake yet again, because Digg holds her tighter and starts to speak to her in the tone he usually reserves for calming baby Sara.

"You can sleep, Felicity. It's okay."

"John-" she nearly begs.

_Please don't leave me. Please don't let him come back. Please let everything be okay._

"I'm not leaving you, Felicity. I'll be here the whole time."

Within minutes, the shaking throughout her body subsides and she feels Diggle shift her onto the pillows before she feels nothing at all.

*****

Digg hears the front door being thrown open only seconds before Oliver's concerned voice breaks through the silence.

"Felicity?"

"Oliver-" Digg starts, trying to remain as quiet as he possibly can in order to avoid waking the poor girl lying across the comforter, but Oliver can't hear him.

"Felicity!"

Diggle stands from his position near the foot of the bed, crossing the doorway to shout for Oliver, but he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on Felicity's sleeping form.

Oliver eats up the distance between them, eyes searching for her in the darkness.

Digg's eyes crinkle in sympathy as he takes in Oliver's appearance. Haunted eyes, glassy and worried, radiating the misery and panic that John hasn't seen since Felicity's time in the ICU all those months ago. He just looks so lost.

Looking at him now, John knows that if anything happens to Felicity, Oliver will never recover.

Diggle claps a hand to Oliver's shoulder and pulls him toward the doorway where he can see the outline of Felicity asleep in the middle of the bed. John doesn't miss the way his breath hitches at the sight of her, resting and peaceful and safe.

"Is she...Is..." Oliver tries to start, but the words get caught in his throat.

"She's okay, Oliver," John tells her, his tone carrying implications that Oliver immediately understands.

"He got way too close, Digg. _Way_ too close."

Oliver bows his head, hands overlapping on the back of his neck as he breathes in deeply.

"If you had just been a minute later-"

"Hey. You can't think like that. What matters now is that she's safe."

Oliver nods slowly, but the guilt he carries rolls off of him in waves.

"I should have been here," he laments. He tilts his head up, moving his hands to scrub his palms over his tired eyes as he sighs.

"What happened?" he finally asks brokenly.

John pauses, gathering his thoughts before explaining, "He left her some food on her nightstand...I guess she thought it was from one of us. It was laced with some narcotics. A light sedative and some kind of variation of Vertigo... She had no idea what was happening."

" _God_ , John-"

"Physically, she's fine," he continues as if Oliver hadn't spoken. "You might need to keep an eye out for some side effects of the medication. She might be sick or shaky the rest of the night, but it shouldn't be anything too serious. Mentally... Who knows what she saw with the drugs in her system. You know how Vertigo messes with your head."

Oliver whimpers at his words. He can't stand to think of what Felicity might have seen, the images that will likely haunt her dreams for weeks to come.

"Look, Oliver. You need to pull yourself together. If not for yourself, then at least for her. I know how hard this is for you, but I can't imagine how she must be feeling right now. She's terrified. She can't afford to hold you together right now, man, and we both know that's what she'll try to do if you fall apart. You need to be strong for her, make sure she knows that she has you through all of this."

Oliver nods resolutely.

"You good here?"

When Oliver nods once more, John pats his shoulder and walks back through the darkened hallway, leaving Oliver to care for his fiancé.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you guessed it, which made me laugh really hard. I love that you guys leave comments and guess what's going to happen next, it lets me know that you're into the story and makes me really happy :)
> 
> And, just a side note, if you ever feel that I need to tag a trigger warning, please don't hesitate to let me know. Seriously. I never want someone to be triggered because of something I write, so it's not a problem and I won't be offended.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave comments and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second multi-chapter Arrow fic, and it was a lot of fun to write. I am not an English major, so I'm sorry for any cringe-worthy segments. Hope you liked it! As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> If you want to chat, you can find me on tumblr with the same username: taxingtaurus.


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